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Where Are You Going and Where Have You Been; for lucier <3
Topic Started: Apr 5 2010, 11:39 PM (1,226 Views)
passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sawyer McKinely was sitting in the driver's seat of his black Porche. Honesty, he'd much rather have a Jeep. But his father told him that Jeeps don't give off the proper image a son of the President of the United States should give off. And well, he tried his best to console himself with thoughts that many a man in his place would be dying to have such an expensive car.

But no, his car was hardly the big deal on his mind at the moment. After all he'd had it a good year or two now. Any anguish he felt over having his father pick out his car despite his son being in his 20's had been shoved aside many months ago.

His hands were gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles were white from the strength of his grip. The car was sitting, idling, in the space outside of the... White House. He'd already gone through security to get back to his 'home' (even though the White House hardly felt like his home). His hazel eyes flicked up to meet his reflection in the rear view mirror. He knew he was fucked as soon as he set foot inside the House. There was no way he could keep covered up what had happened today.

Sure, losing your job was a pretty normal, if unpleasant, occurrence across the globe. But when every action you made 'reflected' on the President up for re-election... it was a problem.

Swayer smacked his forehead on the top of the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Then rested it there. He drew in a few breaths and let them out, in the attempt to ease his nerves. Needless to say, he felt much like a preteen in those moments. He'd done something bad in his father's eyes, and even worse he knew he was going to be yelled at as if he was nothing but a child. Despite having just turned 25 years old a few months ago. It was so degrading.

He finally lifted his head, and raked a hand back through his hair as he pulled his key from the ignition and got out of the car. Slamming the door closed behind him, he headed on into the white abode which had been his home for the past four years and, if his father got what he wanted, would be his home for another four. He let out a tired sigh. Ironic that his father surprisingly didn't want him out of the house, despite his age. Though he was under the impression that if he had a wedding band on his finger, that he'd be ... allowed to leave. That's how it'd worked for his sister.

Problem was... women were hardly his cup of tea. Yes, he'd come to realize this, actually very early in life. But even worse was before he realized his eyes always wandered to attractive guys around him, he'd known at an even younger age that it was only acceptable for boys to like girls. And any other way was an 'abomination'. Maybe he'd bite the bullet, and have a marriage of convenience. Not like he hadn't lived a fake life up until now. What was another 20, 30, 40 years...?

He walked in, going in the door then up the stairs that lead to the actual living quarters of the White House. He was in the midst of loosening his tie when he soon felt a soft furry creature rubbing on his leg. A slow smile came to his face and he looked down as he saw his precious little cat, Boots. He scooped the little kitty up into his arms.

"Hey there. At least you're happy to see me," he murmured quietly as he scratched behind the cat's ears. The kitty mewled in response and leaned into his hand in a feline fashion. With the cat still in his arms, Sawyer walked down the main hall and peeked into some of the rooms. Seemed his father and mother were out, which was no surprise. And in fact at the moment was a relief. His imminent doom could be put off for another few hours.

Making a beeline for his bedroom, he soon was plopped down on the bed, and he let the cat sit upon the mattress with him. His room was neat as a pin, as expected. He grabbed up his laptop from the nearby night stand, and brought it to rest on his thighs. A sigh escaped him as he opened it up. Might as well enjoy those hours as best he could. Things weren't going to be pretty when his father returned.

He lifted his head as he looked at the clock in the room. And silently he opened up a familiar word document on his computer. A hefty amount of text appeared on the screen. He took a few moments to think... But before long, his fingers were flying along the keys. Seems writing when upset was surprisingly fluid.

A mask of plastic happiness often covers his sadness
His beliefs hidden from most
Afraid of, but willing to face the unknown
Wondering where his place is in this life
He has come close to sharing himself
Never completely revealing anything to anyone
Feelings of invisible chains corner him..


Sawyer jerked as he heard a door down the hall open and close...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
[Jason Lansky] had high hopes for life. Except now he was past thirty, edging on towards thirty-two, and he had more scars than wealth to show for it, "Can't we just tell her to fuck off? You know all that money isn't going towards Jimmy anyway. My ex-wife likes Prada and Prada costs money. If she needed more money, should have thought twice about hopping off to Rome with that boytoy of hers, yes? -- how is it any of her fucking business that I --"

"Mr. Lansky." Alicia was the collective secretary for their particular corner, and she was as professional as they come. Maybe he'd actually quit for good today and go grovel for his old job back. He and Ross still had drinks often and Jason still dropped by the Post often to rub it in the college grads' faces that a year at the Post would eventually land you a sweet gig at the fucking White House. Except the job sucked.

Jason shot a glance in her direction and she cowered. People always cowered, Jason Lansky was someone to be feared. "Anyway, you know what? You're fired. You have until the end of business today to send me a bill. Good-bye, Mr. Howard." He snapped his phone shut with a decisive click and slammed it on his desk. His desk looked like the aftermath of a nuclear detonation, but he could still find where everything was at a moment's notice. It was one of his many talents.

"How many attorneys have you fired this week, now?" Richard Sears worked two desks over and Jason's antics always amused him.

"I just worked my way through Howard and Sully," Jason tugged at his tie. He'd professed a strong dislike of formal attire, but a nice custom suit could get you far. The only reason he tolerated it, really. "If you could recommend the next firm for me to demolish, please do so."

"You're some piece of work."

"Thanks," Jason got up from his chair after shoving all of his various paperwork to one side. "Anyway...I need a smoke." Richard never smoked, but Jason prided himself on being a good influence.

Richard said, "I don't smoke."

.

"But you already pled no contest for child custody," Ross sounded exhausted, like he hadn't the strength to deal with Jason's baggage. Jason had lots of baggage. "What else does she want?"

"Money I probably don't have," Jason was wealthy enough, but he didn't feel like handing over his hard earned money for Allison to fritter away in Europe. "But that's not why I called," he took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled deeply. "Can I have my old job back please? I'll even set up shop in the basement. The place is driving me insane."

Ross was laughing, the bastard. "You begged me for the job, remember?"

"You're the one that said it was going to be fun and exciting," Jason deadpanned as he pushed his way into a coffee shop, for a weekday afternoon, the place seemed packed. "You fucking lied. McKinely is so clean it makes my head hurt."

"But he's up for reelection, and you promised me a story," Ross said, " 'Sides, it isn't that bad."

"Fuck you --" And then Jason remembered that he was standing in line for coffee and the cashier was giving him a look. "Not you, I'll have a large coffee, thanks." And then, "Ross, if I --"

The line was dead. It wasn't the first time Ross had hung up on him, and it was certainly not the first time that Jason totally deserved it, either. He collected his coffee and walked outside. He didn't really like coffee, but it seemed like coffee and cigarettes went hand in hand.

.

He was on his second cigarette and his coffee was empty when he drove back to the White House, as per usual, they frisked him, and Jason told them to fuck off. Went back to work, and Richard stood there with a thick brief. "You should really stop telling all of the security guys to fuck off. They've got guns and they might shoot you one day."

"Then I'll posthumously sue the United States. I've always wanted to," Jason said darkly, and then he pointed at the brief, "That for me?"

"It goes to Director Wilkes' office, and you can just leave it with his secretary if he's not in."

"...Right." Director Wilkes' office was somewhere...Jason hadn't the slightest idea where. But he wasn't about to let that on. "I'll be back, then."
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
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On instinct, the twenty something quickly clicked ctrl s, and closed the laptop, then slid it off to the side. He heard footsteps outside, in the hall. Heavy ones, that came from a pair of properly polished business shoes, Silently, Sawyer got up from his head. Boots lifted his head. He'd since curled up on the foot of Sawyer's bed, but as his person had gotten up, his interest had faintly perked, till he laid his head back down.

The young man worked on sliding off his suit jacket, and hanging it up on a hangar in the closet. More footsteps. Though at least his father wasn't banging open his door. Maybe no word had come through the grapevine... yet. Maybe.

He cleared his throat then, and went about unbuttoning his shirt. He slid the starchy material off, and hung it up too. His undershirt stayed on, as he then tugged out a t-shirt from the nearby drawer and pulled it on. His dress slacks then came off, replaced soon by a pair of his old favorite blue jeans. He never got to wear those types of clothes outside. At least very rarely. He had an image to uphold, just like the rest of his family.

After he'd dressed down, he drew in a slow breath, and went to his door. He opened it, and peeked out. He didn't hear anymore footsteps. He walked out of his bedroom and down the hall, in his socked feet. He soon spotted his father nestled into the yellow oval room. He'd since turned on the television, and was watching over his latest speech with his brows furrowed in thought. Sawyer hesitantly stood in the doorway, till his father lifted his head from sensing his presence. No smile graced his lips. Then again his father never smiled much, except for photos.

"Hey," Sawyer spoke finally, to break the silence. His father nodded in response. "Good afternoon, Sawyer." he eyed his casual clothes but said nothing. Sawyer cleared his throat again, as his hand lingered on the door frame. His father had since turned his attention back to the TV. That was, till something seemed to click in his head. His shoulders squared off.

"You're home early," Adam added. Sawyer looked from the TV to his dad, though the older man wasn't looking at him.

"Yeah. I am," he confirmed but left it at that.

"Why?"

"... Because they told me to go home,"

His father set down the remote, and then finally turned to look at his son. His eyes had narrowed. "Why would they tell you to do that?" he continued, not beating around the bush. Being direct with his questions and expecting honest answers. Sawyer grimaced faintly.

"Because I've been fired," he spoke. No reason to hide it. It was going to come out one way or another. He could see the look of anger already flaring up on his father's stern face. Well shit, here it comes...

The older man rose up then. Although his son was six feet, the tall President still towered over his son by a good five inches, a fact that annoyed him. Seems like no matter how old he got he'd always be the 'child'.

"Fired? And why did you allow that to happen? Sawyer, do you know what you've done? By getting your lazy ass fired!?" His father spoke, his voice rising with every word. Sawyer felt himself nearly shrink as his father spoke down to him.

"I'm sorry. It just kind of happened," Sawyer managed. He felt his father shove him back by the shoulder.

"Being fired doesn't just happen. You're given plenty of warning. Plenty of signs that your head might be next on the chopping block. You let this happen." He spoke as his eyes looked at the boy with a knowing glare. He wasn't a stupid man. He knew how his son had felt about his job he'd pushed him into pursuing. Sawyer's brows furrowed as he glared up at his dad.

"Maybe I did. I hated that job. If you really want a god damn spy in the Post you should just hire one. I'm your son, not your servant," Sawyer gripped his hands at his hips.

His father turned from him then, and looked out the large curved windows that looked out over the White House's front yard. "Did you even think how this would reflect on me? When the nation hears my son is a dead beat?" he growled. "And not only that, but the Post can make a god damn post on it with ease. Do you realize the people I'm going to have to pay off to hide this? Change it?" he let out a faint growl in his tone of voice.

"Why the hell should it matter what I do anyway!? Look at Palin's daughter! She had a damn child out of wedlock! ... And Cheney's daughter..." he grimaced. His father turned back to him, glaring. "You really think those 'mistakes' make our fellow republican party members happy? You think their children got off scott free with those mistakes? They are horrible blows to our member's fidelity and popularity with the voters. And I sure as hell aren't having a mark on my record because of my son and his fuck ups." he seethed.

Sawyer felt stiff all over, yet at the same time wished he could melt into a puddle and just seep into the floor.

"Get your ass back over to the Post and beg for your job back." Adam growled. Sawyer frowned and he shook his head.

"I don't want that job back. I hated it." he spoke, refusing to budge. Not after all the verbal and faint physical abuse he'd just taken. "... I'll look for something else okay? But I am not... Am not... working there again."

Adam looked insulted his boy had dared to claim he wouldn't do as his father asked. But the look faded as a sheer expression of disgust filled his face. "Fine. Go. Find a job. As long as it's at least respectable." he began. "But nothing beats the Post. And nothing else will be as helpful for me as that job you had," he grumbled under his breath.

Sawyer watched his father sink back down into the couch. He swallowed thickly, but turned then, on his heel. His eyes stung, as he slammed the door behind him and stalked down the hall. He went back into his room, and closed the door behind him, then slid down slowly, till he was sitting on the wooden floor. He winced as his head fell forward, into his hands. His shoulders shook. He was so envious, of the average child, with an average family and an average father... So very, very envious.

Little did the President or his son know, that many of their heightened words had echoed through the halls, and could be heard quite clearly by anyone at the foot of the stairs that lead to the second floor...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Let's see...all of the Directors' offices were lumped together on the second floor in a godforsaken corner somewhere. Not that it helped any, the second floor was easily the biggest floor in the entire White House. Since the President's private quarters were on the other side. Jason had never been up there, but he doubted it'd been anything less than the house that he'd purchased in Malibu before he came out here to accept Ross' position at the Post, only to be upgraded to the White House in a little more than a year. He was even surprised that the White House even hired him, knowing his track record. This was not to say that he wasn't a good journalist -- he damn well was, but he liked to follow in the footsteps of one Donald Segretti.

The White House desperately needed a map. Maybe when he had a spare moment that wasn't being wasted on his ex-wife or cigarettes, he'd call in a few favors from the few lobbyists he was blackmailing. Actually, maybe after he dropped this off at Wilkes' office, he was going to make a few calls. This was fucking ridiculous.

And Richard probably got off on ordering Jason around, just because he was three years ahead of him. There were a few promotion spots coming up, and Richard was unabashedly chasing after those like a dog in heat. After he'd make calls to the lobbyists, he'd hire a P.I. to tail Richard just for kicks. Maybe something interesting would come up.

"Why the hell should it matter what I do anyway!? Look at Palin's daughter! She had a damn child out of wedlock! ... And Cheney's daughter..."

"You really think those 'mistakes' make our fellow republican party members happy? You think their children got off scott free with those mistakes? They are horrible blows to our member's fidelity and popularity with the voters. And I sure as hell aren't having a mark on my record because of my son and his fuck ups."


Maybe it was just Jason, but holy shit, the President of the United States just called his son a fuck up. Jason and young Sawyer McKinely were hardly on speaking terms, it was doubtful that that the latter knew that the former existed -- sometimes, it paid to be a vulgar chameleon. He'd heard Ross mention briefly once that McKinely had been hired at the Post for something mediocre. They had only spoke on it once and they hadn't spoke on it again. In a sense, it was a trade: Jason was here, trapped in bureaucratic hell, and McKinely was dallying over at the Post. The world was lovely.

"Fine. Go. Find a job. As long as it's at least respectable." --

Ross fired him? That was something Jason hadn't known. You'd think he'd at least he'd have the propriety to mention it. Or maybe Ross knew that Jason Lansky was endlessly resourceful and would dig it up eventually. He glanced down at Wilkes' brief. He had no idea what was in there, no interest in legalese whatsoever, but one didn't need to be a genius to know that it was important. He dropped the brief anyway and watched the papers spill out in the stairwell. He had no idea if this would even work...but at least he'd try.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
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Never would Sawyer admit that his father made him cry. He'd refused to do it, in front of his mother or his father. Always ran away, when the tears wanted to fall. But it was pretty ridiculous since... well... He was 25, and yet he felt like a child. Being treated like one, and then... crying like one. He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away the hot tears.

"Mew...?" came the little sound of Boots. Startled, he looked down at his feline companion. And his eyes softened. A slow smile came to his lips, as he picked the little cat up. He looked at the young cat's big curious eyes and he kissed the feline on the nose. "Always there when I need you, Boots," he chuckled a bit. He got up then, as he held the cat on his chest, and headed to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, and his brows furrowed as he saw his eyes were pink and swollen from tears. He couldn't go begging for jobs in this condition.

A while later, the young man, son of the current President McKinely of the United States, was wearing a suit jacket and matching slacks. His father caught his eye going out, but said nothing. Just gave him a look, a look of 'if you don't come back with a job, don't come back at all' sort of glare. Sawyer pointedly ignored him. He'd seen that look before. And sure he'd been close to being tossed out of the house, except his father realized that would cause more media headlines than what Sawyer had done in a previous offense.

He closed the door behind him as he headed down the stairs. But he paused as he saw... some fallen papers on the stairs. A perplexed look came over his face, as he picked up the papers in question, and looked around. Seemed... no one was here. What lazy aide had dropped this though? And why hadn't they cleaned up after themselves? Scowling, he held the papers between his hands and straightened them out as he headed for the exit of the House. He stopped at one of the desks and laid the papers down on it.

"I don't know who's this is, but I found it on the stairs." he informed plainly, then turned and headed out. As he headed back to the car, he began to shrug out of his jacket. He folded it over, leaving him in a simple pale green button down shirt and his brown dress slacks. He was hardly in the mood to go to interviews and beg for a job. He needed a drink. Badly...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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Well, obviously it was on purpose. Or else Sawyer McKinely wouldn't have any reason to come back to the aides' part of the White House. Perhaps it was because he never came here, that was why everyone gaped at the sudden presence of the president's son...also in casual attire. But when he'd gone, Richard glanced at Jason, who was trying very hard not to look over.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"It's shit, yeah."

"Lansky," Richard only called him by his surname when he was sufficiently annoyed, that was one of those times. "Jesus, I'm wondering why they haven't fired you yet. That brief was confidential. Have you no sense of propriety?" He was hissing between his teeth, and when grown men did that, Jason found it hard to take him seriously. "What's on the sheet of paper?"

"Relax, it's not even part of the brief. It's just something that I dropped just so I can get him to come around," Jason stood up. "And just in case you're wondering, Wilkes wasn't in. Anyway, before you distract me any further, I have to get going." Before Sawyer could get far, that is. And at some point, he also had to phone Ross to get the full story on why Sawyer was fired. That proved to be interesting. Maybe he was keeping the story for himself, the bastard.

"Where are you going now?"

"I need another smoke. Want to come with?"

Richard did not look amused, "I don't smoke."

When Jason made it outside, he was glad to see that Sawyer hadn't driven away yet. Everyone had been informed that Sawyer McKinely had been privy enough to a brand new black Porsche. Jason's own car was not nearly as nice and he'd kill for that car. Very posh, and probably the bell boys would be all over it. And now...he needed to play it coy. Coy was actually one of the things he did best. Jason didn't do sincere very well. But for a story, he'd try anything once.

Jason walked over to his car and lit a cigarette (he was always up for a smoke break) but he blew the smoke away from the younger man just in case. He'd never seen Sawyer smoke, but then again, what he saw of Sawyer was only publicity. No harm in playing it safe.

"Mr McKinely....I just wanted to say a thank you for saving my ass back there with the paper. It was important. I didn't know how I missed it...Directior Wilkes was about to kill me." (Offering to buy the kid a drink was next, but Jason didn't want to push his luck just yet.)
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passionflower
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Sawyer was just about to get into his car, when he heard someone address him. Mr. McKinely. Sure, it was for the sake of politeness, but gods he equated that name with his old man. He turned a bit then, and paused as he saw the aide following after him and soon coming to a stop. He quirked a brow curiously as he explained a little about those papers.

"... So you just happened to drop the papers on the stairs?" he mused quietly. He wasn't an idiot. It seemed odd. But for the moment harmless enough. "... I guess be more careful," he gave a shrug. Wasn't really much of his business if the other guy wanted to get his ass fired too. He wasn't really one to talk or give pep talks.

He lingered by his driver's side door a moment or two, as he silently eyed the other man up and down. Head to foot. Shined shoes, up to his pressed slacks and suit jacket. Everyone around the White House (except maybe the tourists) were always dressed up properly. Sawyer was about sick of seeing suits.

He tossed his jacket into the car, and his eyes flicked back to the aide. He saw the smoldering stick hanging from his lips, billowing the pungent smoke up over his head. His fingers clenched a bit at his sides. If Sawyer had been anyone else... he would have gladly asked for a stick himself. Asked for a light too. But he wasn't about to add onto his list of guilts within his father's eyes. Knowing he'd been fired was enough fuck ups for the day.

He looked back to his car then. "Look.. I'm glad you're... thankful, but I need to get somewhere. So if you'd excuse me..." he spoke as he turned back to the car and slowly slid into the driver's seat.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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Well, when Jason thought about Sawyer McKinely, his surname came to mind. However, bureaucracy had eaten his brain too, and he settled for 'Mr. McKinely, until Sawyer would correct him...and he would, eventually. He sucked hard on his cigarette again and turned his head the other way to blow smoke, he hoped he looked frazzled enough. And by the young man's rather irritated expression, Jason probably did. He gave a half smile and threw up his hands again.

"Guilty as charged...today's really not my day, it's just been shit." (Everyday was practically shit in Jason's book, but Sawyer hardly needed to know that.) "I was in a hurry going up the stairs...I mean, you'd think the White House would have gotten with the program and gotten elevators installed or something, but no. I don't know what it is, does it have something to do with the Historical value?" Jason disliked history, immensely. History was about losers and...fuck ups.

Ah, that reminded him.

"I know, I know...and sorry to bother you. But it's not every day my job gets saved, and by President McKinely's son...no less." Now he just had to play the adoring citizen. Sawyer probably didn't like those too much, but Jason needed to be annoying and being annoying was a forte of his. That, and sarcasm. He was obviously an Oscar Wilde reincarnate. "If you really have to go then...yeah, I'll let you go. But could I buy you a drink? If not today, then sometime. Just as a small token of thanks."

Jason flourished that off with a hopeful eager look, like he was begging for a job at the Post all over again. Ross had looked him up and down, flipped him off, and hired him on the spot. Maybe the trick was tried and true.
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passionflower
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Sawyer paused after having put the key into the ignition. His eyes lifted as he looked up at the White House aide. One dark brow quirked as he saw what seemed like a hopeful look on the smoker's eyes. He also caught a hint of that cigarette smoke in his nose, the scent sending a little shiver down his back. Sure, normally the scent of cigarettes would cause most people to wrinkle their noses in disgust. But for Sawyer it was just... sheer temptation.

He looked to his steering wheel a moment, then his eyes flicked back to the aide from the corner of his eyes. He tipped his head to the side. "... Sounds like we could both use a drink. And if you're being so kind as to make the offer, then get in," he spoke with a nod. He pulled his door closed, and waited for the other man to slide into his passenger seat. The smell of the still rather fresh smelling leather was still quite strong. New car smell. Little did Sawyer know that this aide, among many people, would have gladly taken that car off his hands.

Once Jason was buckled in, Sawyer turned his head to watch where the hell he was backing the shiny black Porsche, then soon was pulling out of the lot and heading for the security gate that lead out to the heart of D.C.

Sawyer had gone quiet as he drove. Like any other time he did something a tad questionable, he was running through his diagnostic list of 'am I making another fuck up?'

Let's see... He was out in semi casual attire. Going to get a drink. And with a male White House aide. His eyes flicked back over to Jason. Scratch that. An attractive male White House aide. And on top of that he was now dying for a smoke thanks to the fucker having been in the midst of sucking one of the tempting little cancer sticks right in front of him.

His eyes went back to the road. A long as he wasn't caught doing something as stupid as sucking face with this guy who he'd just met, he'd be alright. Or so he hoped. And... and if he didn't get shit faced. Or caught smoking. Or... Okay maybe he had a few things he'd have to keep tabs on. Some more likely to occur than others. He rolled his shoulders back, but they were still as tense as ever. His fathers words were still playing through his mind over and over, inescapable.

But even if they weren't, he wouldn't know the first thing to really ask the guy. The fact he was even in his car was kind of a strange bout of serendipity.

"... You got a name? Obviously you know mine," he spoke finally, figuring that was an innocent and simple enough question.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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Hell, Jason was always up for a drink, shitty day or not, and he was most definitely always up for kissing ass for a story. Right now, things seemed to be going off to a good start. Either Sawyer was having a very bad day, or Jason just got very lucky. Since he never got lucky, Sawyer was probably having a bad day. Jason had never lost a job in his life, but he was pretty positive that he'd feel shitty too. But having Sawyer invite him along for a drink was completely a stroke of luck so undeserved. He looked at his cigarette briefly, wondering if he just throw it out, but considering he'd just lit it not that long ago...

"Don't mind if I do, then." The car even smelled new.

Well, saying too much would bring suspicions to himself that he'd rather not, but he didn't have to wait long until Sawyer turned to him, asking his name. Jason took a moment to look thoughtful, "I've got several. If you straight up want to yell at me, it's Lansky. If we're going out to have a nice drink, I'm Jason. I also answer to all sorts of obscenities....god knows I've been on the receiving end of those all day." Not really, but he was smooth like that.

He also felt Sawyer's eyes lingering on his cigarette, either he wanted one or wanted Jason to put it out. If it was the latter though, he probably would have said something already. So Jason took a risk and fished out a pack. It was fresh, a sudden bout of ESP had told him he needed it this morning before he showed up to work.

"Want one? I promise I won't tell." At some point he would...but not right now. He was supposed to be feeling shitty.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sawyer gave a nod as Jason explained his many names. "... Let's stick to Jason then," he informed quietly. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel a bit. "... And you can just call me Sawyer. Mr. McKinely makes me sound like an old man," he murmured. He bit back the need to say 'like the fat old man that name belongs to' a.k.a. his father, the current President of the United Fucking States. But he didn't need anyone hearing him bad mouth his own father.

When he saw the other fish out his pack of cigs and soon offer him one, Sawyer didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked up to look the aide in the eyes. Sure, he promised not to tell. But he'd just met the man. Maybe he was a nice honest guy, but for the moment he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. He shifted his eyes away.

"No thanks," he informed. He was amazed at his self control sometimes. Sure part of him was tempted to just lash out at his father, commit a bunch more fuck ups, but no... seems the responsible part of himself was still hanging in there.

Before long they were parked outside one of the pubs in the downtown. Sawyer stepped out, and silently headed inside, figuring his sudden drinking partner would follow. Inside the pub wasn't too busy. Then again it was only around 1 pm. Happy Hour didn't start till 5. Sawyer had been fired earlier that day. And that was that.

The pub was intimate, a little small, and had a woody smell, thanks to the wooden furniture and bar. There were a few people eating a late lunch at some of the tables. Sawyer, on the other hand, had walked on over to the bar and had himself a seat. The tender looked his way, taking a moment to observe him. His brows furrowed, perhaps finding he recognized the man, but couldn't place a face with a name.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"Sawyer it is," Jason agreed mildly and put the pack back into his pocket. This exchange had taught him two things: one.) Sawyer probably smoked in private and two.) apparently smoking was still taboo (If it was, Jason definitely missed the memo, so did Regan, actually. Didn't he used to smoke when he was plastered all over Hollywood?) and oh, also three.) Sawyer wasn't as gullible as Jason thought he would be. That was what made it fun, right? He needed fun after a shit awful day. "Suit yourself."

And now for a little secret of his own, Jason didn't drink in public often unless it was all about business. At the moment, he had sniffed a story and followed it. And it was a tad risky because well, it was. And if Ross hadn't upgraded him he'd still be blackmailing lobbyists, this was slightly more interesting, all things considered.

Jason had never been to this bar, but it seemed that Sawyer had, maybe, so he followed the younger man inside and took a seat beside him at the bar. The fact that he was in a suit and tie maybe gave it away? Well, sometimes they mistook him for a lobbyist, Jason certainly had the mouth for it, and anyone could look intelligent. He sat down in the empty seat on Sawyer's left and snapped his fingers at the bartender, who was probably trying too hard to figure out where he'd seen Sawyer before. Right now, anonymity was sacred.

"I'll be having a scotch on the rocks, easy on the rocks, what will you be having?" He could poke around later, even though his journalist self was starting to get impatient, but it was still better to establish a connection first. After all, Jason took great pride in getting all of his sources to trust him...eventually.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
The bartender jolted as Jason snapped his fingers in front of him. Scowling a bit, he rolled his shoulders back and cleared his throat. "What'll you fellas have?" he asked.

Sawyer spared the aide a glance as he ordered his scotch. He leaned forward on the bar. "Captain & Cola," he spoke to the bartender. Before long, the rum and cola cocktail was slid his way. The scotch on the rocks too was pushed over toward Jason.

The President's son picked up the cool glass and brought it to his lips, then sipped at the combination silently. His eyes stared straight ahead, as he got wrapped up in his own thoughts.

There were other publications all around the D.C. area. Magazines and minor newspapers. But his father was right, the Post was most influential for his father's 'job'. Idly he tried to scour his brain for any names he might know right off the top of his head. Nothing was coming. He looked down into his drink, as he moved it around in his hand a bit, hearing the ice clink. Best to savor his drink. He didn't want to get caught 'binge drinking'.

"... so what inspired you to become a White House aide? Were you out of your mind?" Sawyer mused quietly. His eyes did not look in the direction of the other man, just spoke outward into the air. At least he'd had a choice in his job. Or so he assumed. Most normal people did. But Sawyer didn't exactly live a normal life. He took a few long sips of his drink, then set the glass back down, as he enjoyed the bubbliness of the soda and the faint burn of the rum as it slid down his throat.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Jason gave his best 'fuck you' grin to the bartender, and took a slow sip from his scotch on the rocks. The bartender looked like he wanted to say something else obscene, but obviously Jason looked the type that could out-obscene him any given day...even when he was stuck in a suit in a tie. If such attire didn't come with money and power, he would have ditched formal attire a long time ago. Maybe he was really that shallow. He was staring idly at his glass when Sawyer spoke again. Right now, Jason decided to just be complacent and let Sawyer lead the conversation and see where it went.

Who knew? it might even lead to an interesting place. Jason was certainly all for it.

"How I became an aide?" He gave a little chuckle and left his drink a moment to draw from his cigarette, "I don't think I was...unless I was high. I probably wasn't." He remembered being intensely sober and intensely angry at Ross for pitching him to the White House.

But he paused again, how was he going to explain to Sawyer without giving away that he'd worked at the Post...but then again, Sawyer didn't know, didn't he, that Jason had been eavesdropping. So maybe it was safe.

"Anyway...I had this other job, and it fell through and there just happened to be an opening at the White House...I mean, I've already sold my house in Malibu, it's kind of pointless to go back. Besides, the guy at the Post was an ass." (If Ross heard about this, Jason couldn't care less...and besides, Ross already knew what Jason thought of him several times over. "Besides...it's not that horrible, working at the White House, I just hate it when they exercise seniority." But they exercised seniority everywhere, some of them even abused the privilege.

"...You never told me why your day was going horrible."
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Jason slowly sipped at his drink. He'd taken his eyes off the aide, not because he wanted to be rude, but because he didn't want to get caught staring. Okay, so Jason Lansky was a looker. But he didn't need anyone else thinking that. And this was hardly the time or place to arrange for a low profile sexual rendezvous. He had done those before. Sparingly. When he couldn't control his physical needs anymore. That was the kind of life his father wanted homosexuals to live. Hidden, in the underbelly of society. And definitely not in public view. He was 'living the life' alright.

His eyes flicked to the side, as Jason mentioned that he had worked at the post. And he knew exactly who he was talking about. He quirked a brow as he set his glass down. "You worked at the Post?" he asked quietly. A house in Malibu... How loaded was this guy? He didn't ask. Was a bit too nosey to ask about money and all that so early in a relationship. Erm... not that he was attempting to make a relationship with this man who he just met.

He looked back down to his glass as his brows furrowed. Now how to handle the question that had been tossed his way. True? Lie? Spin his own truth... he liked the sound of that better. In fact that was his entire life. A fake truth. A pretty way of calling it... a lie.

"Well... I also was working at the Post. I know exactly who you're talking about," he mused quietly. "But I didn't like it there. So.... I quit," he mused. Okay honestly he kind of wish he had really quit. But he didn't have the balls to do that, so he had to settle for being fired to get out of that horrible job.

"That part I guess wasn't so bad." He shrugged softly. "... The horrible part was coming home and facing the President," he smirked quietly. He lifted a hand then, and went about rubbing the back of his neck. "But things will be fine. I'll have another job in a few days. Just... a bump in the road. Nothing more," he played it off. Please don't think it's a big deal... Pllleeeaassee...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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